


Grim Recollection

by Ezlebe



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, Hospitalization, Injury Recovery, M/M, Morbid Behavior, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 01:34:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ezlebe/pseuds/Ezlebe
Summary: Hux is awake when Ren slips in the door, gaze fixed at his feet, but a startled glance up reveals cloudy eyes and a bemused pout, deepening slowly as the seconds drag on to almost a minute. His hands are limp and folded at his lap, his body propped up in the raised bed, and if he’s not having memory problems, then he’s doing great at acting like it.Ren swallows hard, reaching up and tugging his sunglasses off, folding and unfolding them in one hand. “Hux – Armie?”Hux blinks slowly, his mouth twisting with apparent difficulty into a churlish frown. He tries to lift his arms, cross them, but quickly gives up and they fall back with a slump of his shoulders. “Am I dead?”





	Grim Recollection

“Mr Organa?”

Ren looks up from his phone with a start, finding a doctor in purple scrubs peering down. They have a sanitary mask down under their chin, sleeves pulled at the elbow, and are wearing a too-placid smile.

“I just wanted to let you know we’re moving Armitage to a room,” the doctor says, tugging the mask completely off their face, and Ren finally recognizes her from the too-brief introduction to Hux’s surgery; he can’t remember a name. “If you’d like to come with me.”

Ren stands slowly, offering a nod that he can’t quite pair with a smile. It was supposed to be in and out; practically outpatient, they said, barely an incision. He didn’t know Hux was going to have to stay.

The walk is quiet, through sterile halls and past rushing staff, leading to a quiet area with little more than echoes of beeps from closed rooms. The doctor clears her throat, looking up to Ren and markedly narrowing her eyes with a nod; the sunglasses are probably off-putting, but Ren isn’t going to find some way to care about it. “He’s awake now, but a little disoriented,” the doctor says, gesturing meaningfully to the room just at her side; it’s got a wide door, but a screen blocks Ren from being able to see inside. “His records suggest he may – _is_ suffering some amnesia from the drugs administered, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

Ren leans back on a heel, stomach tightening into a rock.

“It could be anything from a few days to even years,” the doctor continues, taking a step away when a nurse exits Hux’s room, nodding to them and pointing, as she speaks, to some area down the hall. She continues to stare up at Ren’s face for another moment, then looks down with a short cough. “He’s lost, that is, but like I said, it’s not remotely permanent. The usual case is a patient falls asleep and wakes up a few hours later, not even remembering they forgot anything.”

Ren rolls his lip between his teeth, trying to ignore an anxious, thready pulse at the base of his throat. “I’m going in now.”

“Alright, Mr Organa,” the doctor steps back again, turning her hand in a short gesture. “A nurse will be attending close if you have any further questions.”

Hux is awake when Ren slips in the door, gaze fixed at his feet, but a startled glance up reveals cloudy eyes and a bemused pout, deepening slowly as the seconds drag on to almost a minute. His hands are limp and folded at his lap, his body propped up in the raised bed, and if he’s not having memory problems, he’s doing great at acting like it.

Ren swallows hard, reaching up and tugging his sunglasses off, folding and unfolding them in one hand. “Hux – Armie?”

Hux blinks slowly, mouth twisting with apparent difficulty into a churlish frown. He tries to lift his arms, cross them, but quickly gives up and they fall back with a slump of his shoulders. “Am I dead?”

“Dead?” Ren repeats slowly, blinking a few times and glancing to the machine, where a steady output confirms Hux is very much alive, then feels like an idiot – Hux is _talking_ to him. “No?”

“Ah, hm,” Hux mumbles, giving a half-shake of his head, only to grimace immediately and practically turn green, reaching out to the bed rail with some insane intent to move. It sets off a short beep in the machine, then a dinging alarm, evidently prompting Hux to try harder at getting away from the sound.

Ren finds himself rushing forward, putting pressure on a shoulder to keep Hux from getting up. It all happens in an instant, but Ren still feels nauseous himself at the quiet whimper that emerges from Hux’s mouth; the horrorstruck look he sends down at his abdomen. He looks so slim in the wide hospital bed, like he could slip in between mattress and bed-frame to disappear.

A nurse appears soon in the doorway, sweeping the curtain to the side as their eyes scan the room and land square on Ren’s hand. They step in further and press a few commands into the heart machine, checking quick over Hux’s charts. “He try to move?”

“Yeah,” Ren croaks, pulling his hand back with irrational shame burning across the top of his ears. He reaches for his glasses, only to find them lost in the excitement, leaving him awkwardly pulling at his hair.

Hux thankfully stops struggling to get up, likely the fear of more pain keeping him prone while Ren takes the chance to drag a foam chair to his side. He looks more confused than ever, though; his eyes dart around the room, lingering on machinery and charts like he’s just realized they’re in a hospital. The look he gives the nurse is absolutely poisonous, unsteadily tracking them until they turn to leave.

“You were supposed to get out of here right away,” Ren offers neutrally, as he doesn’t want to freak Hux out, still isn’t sure if he’s just high, or… or really doesn’t remember him. He folds his legs under the chair and feels unsettled by the way it sways under his weight, so leans into the bed for balance, though not too close. “But. You know.”

Hux barely acknowledges the words, but he does seem to hear by the way his head tilts slightly when he glances back to Ren. His stare goes on for seconds, both puzzled and intent in a way that’s difficult to suffer on the other end.

Ren looks down when a pallid hand raises from the bed, watching intently as the limb shakes with effort to move, yet still finds himself jumping in surprise when it suddenly meets his face and thin, cool fingers drag down his nose, then over his lips. Hux could almost be trying to map him out, or at least it seems that way until he draws back and puts more effort into a weighty tap up high against Ren’s cheek.

“What the fuck,” Ren mutters, reaching up and grabbing Hux’s wrist before he can get poked in the eye. He holds the hand back an inch or two, finding Hux surprisingly resistant despite visible weakness. “Are you trying to hit me?”

“You – That’s all real?” Hux says with a slight stutter, as if somehow surprised. He stretches his fingers out further, brushing at a loose strand of Ren’s hair.

“Yes?” Ren says, gently forcing Hux’s hand back to the bed, where it contrasts pale on the blue sheet.

Hux continues to stare at him through most of it, then blinks a few times as his mouth reverts into a pout. “But you look… so _much_ like a grim reaper.”

Ren looks down at himself with a start, at the sagging scarf and loose threadbare sweater, both solid black and sporting deliberate holes in some places. He exhales slowly, pinching his mouth in a tight line to hide the slightly hysterical laugh he feels building up at the back of his throat. He dresses like this all the time; Hux was _there_ when he bought most of this outfit, all except for the boots. He probably shouldn’t even be so offended, considering what he does – what _they_ do – yet he still finds himself curling inward on the chair.

“You must scare people,” Hux continues, his voice now going low into an admirable attempt at his usual snide mutter, a shaky smirk appearing at the corner of his mouth. “The elderly, especially.”

“Maybe?” Ren says, half tempted to pull up the hood and play along if it’ll keep Hux in this weird mood, evidently forgetting the feeble state of himself to instead peek slyly through his lashes. He _must_ remember Ren a little bit, enough to be sarcastic rather than simply taciturn.

“Not to mention,” Hux says, lifting his errant hand again, only this time to simply point. “Scarf indoors? Ridle - _ridiculous_.”

“Don’t be a dick. It’s because...” Ren trails off, hesitating another moment before taking the edge of the scarf, pulling it just slightly up to cover his mouth. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, as if Hux doesn’t normally know exactly why. “See? It’s… nice. Like having a blanket everywhere.”

Hux stares for another spell of quiet, concentrated moments, until he glances down with a blink and reaches out, a few weak fingers snagging around Ren’s with a tug. “Are you cold?”

“No,” Ren says slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“Then why do you – ” Hux pauses mid-sentence, punctuated by an abrupt sweep of displeasure across his face. Hopefully, he’s not getting his memories back in order of the worst things Ren has ever done to annoy him.

Ren does look to his own hand, just in case something terrible has crawled out of his palm, but all he sees is Hux’s thin fingers at the center. He glances back up, catching now a deep-set scowl. “Hux?”

“You’re married?” Hux says, poking stiffly at the band encircling Ren’s finger.

“Oh,” Ren intones, feeling that anxiety rise again, forcing him to clear his throat in attempt to mask an uneasy laugh. He is so, _so_ fucked if that doctor was wrong and this is permanent.

Hux drops Ren’s hand like it’s burned him, visibly retreating into himself on the bed. He looks like he’s trying to glare now, though it’s made somewhat comical by the way he blinks at odd speed to keep from closing his eyes too long. He must be close to passing out. “Where are _they_ , then?”

“I mean.” Ren swallows hard, tipping his head to the side. “Here. In the hospital.”

“Ah,” Hux murmurs with a sullen sigh, studying his hands, until he suddenly looks up, then toward the door, surly expression fading when his eyes turn to catch back on Ren. He stares for a few seconds, mouth curling with disbelief. “Is it _me_?”

Ren feels a weak smile grow at the corner of his mouth, then twists his ring off in short order, angling it into the overhead bed light so that Hux can see inside.

“Oh,” Hux murmurs, touching it with an unsteady finger, swallowing against what must be the drugs. He glances up, catching Ren’s eyes with a hum. “Initials.”

“Yeah,” Ren says, turning it with his thumb and working it back over his finger in practiced movement, reflexively drawing his nail down the quartet of thin platinum lines. “Since you’re like, obsessed with putting your name on things.”

Hux gives a low mutter in response, glancing to Ren’s eyes with a frown pinching at his lips. It’s made less intense by the unfocused quality of his gaze, the way he badly swallows a yawn.

“And,” Ren says, leaning back and digging into his pocket, panicking for a moment when he can’t find anything, then finally catching it buried at the deepest corner. He pulls the ring out slowly, holding it carefully between his thumb and pointer finger. “Yours.”

Hux blinks at it in bemusement, a remarkably similar expression to the one he had at the ceremony. It only lasts a few seconds, before quickly turning more comparable to the most fantastical reaction that Ren had imagined when buying it: a small, tremulous grin.

It’s slightly less meaningful here, but he’s going to –

**_Fuck_** , Hux isn’t allowed to do _that_.

“This isn’t real, is it?” Hux mumbles wetly, shoving loose-fisted hands up into his face and over his eyes, badly hiding the spreading red underneath. He takes a shallow breath, voice cracking, “You can’t have married me.”

“Hey,” Ren says, tucking the ring into his palm and standing from his chair, reaching out, but hesitant to actually pull at Hux’s hands. It leaves him awkwardly hovering, fingers brushing at Hux’s wrists. “Why?”

“You’re the Grim Reaper,” Hux answers hoarsely, his tone grave and utterly without humor.

Ren feels himself deflate, hand dropping near an elbow. “I… _okay_?”

“All I can see under your pretty face is a skull,” Hux continues, hands slowly dropping to reveal damp lashes and bruised eyelids, a gently pursed mouth. He seems to be quickly ceding to exhaustion now, his eyes falling closed as he exhales a quiet, collapsing breath. “But it’s lovely.”

“That is…” Ren hums, slumping back into his chair with no little disbelief. He rolls his lips together, looking down and softly tapping Hux’s ring against his own. “Actually, sorta nice. For you.”

“You’re welcome,” Hux murmurs, his eyes twitching slightly under closed lids.

~

“About a three,” Hux is saying, but the sound of his voice is secondary to the slow, tingling drags of his hand through Ren’s hair. He tugs shortly on the ends at the outside of the stroke, then starts over, beginning just in front of an ear.

Ren exhales so hard it’s like he’s emptying his lungs, shoving his face into the blanket and concentrating only on the fingers scratching at his scalp. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, only being determined not to, in spite of the lack he’s had over the past couple of days. It’s felt like an endurance test, and one he’s been barely able to withstand. Couldn’t in the end, evidently.

“I think now would be a good time to dose, if you’re comfortable with it,” the nurse whispers, tapping loudly with what sounds like a pen on a tablet. A dull thunk into the basket at the end signals their putting it back at the foot of the bed.  “We’ll get someone in here as soon as possible to evaluate your discharge.”

“Thank you,” Hux says, leaving Ren bereft as he lifts his hand away, a familiar note of feigned politeness in his tone. He has something in his fingers, sliding along Ren’s neck, when his hand lays back across his shoulder. “They’re his, yes. And he’s awake.”

“Oh,” the nurse says, voice rising to a normal volume, though now a little meek. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, he’s simply lazy,” Hux says, tapping Ren’s shoulder with a pair of fingers, light and more teasing than he’d probably be any other time. “It _is_ mid-afternoon.”

Ren turns his head further into Hux’s blanketed thigh. “Dickhead.”

“Well,” the nurse says, a weedy, awkward hum mounting at the back of their throat. “I’ll just be right back.”

The creak of the room door is followed by a low, pained sigh that nearly makes Ren crawl into this awful hospital bed. He’d fit, probably; it makes Hux seem so, _so_ tiny. He can’t believe this all happened after a _stomach ache_.

“Have you been here the whole time?” Hux asks, nudging out with his knee under Ren’s arm. “Been down to the shop?”

Ren turns his head, blinking against the light in the room, sunlight tempered weakly by thin blinds. He stares a few moments, at the deep bruises under Hux’s eyes and the pallor of his cheeks, the drooping sweater the nurse must have found among their things, then gives a stilted shrug, “What do you think?”

“Don’t get shirty,” Hux scolds, but he sounds drained, exhaling as his eyes close for a too-long moment.

“You were _wrong_ ,” Ren says, thinking of the reassurances of the early morning; the panic after the word ‘appendectomy’, but so simple Hux had said – child’s play for any surgeon. He shoves his face back into the blanket. “It wasn’t just in and out.”

Hux hums and there’s a quiet clink as Ren feels something unfold against the top of his head, soon followed by the return of Hux’s stroking fingers through his hair. “I only said that to make you feel better.”

“Worked great,” Ren mutters, hating the mass he can feel growing in the back of his throat. He’s managed a long time to hold it back, but now it’s like something broke – his eyes are burning, tears manifesting too quick.

Hux sighs again, his hand tightening painfully on small, delicate hairs at the base of his scalp. “ _Ren_.”

“Should sue,” Ren says, shoving his face further against Hux’s thigh. “A lot.”

“We’ll see,” Hux says, his voice sinking into a familiar smug tone, though slightly weaker than he usually might sound. “You slept through the legal advocate.”

Ren glances up to the door, swallowing tightly – how must that have _looked_?

“It was better that way,” Hux says, his fingers tapping out a pattern across Ren’s scalp that manages to be condescending. “You being passed out made it seem more sad.”

Ren looks back to Hux, narrowing his eyes and feeling a weak, trembling sneer curl at his lips. “So not everyone forgot me.”

“Alright.” Hux turns his head against the pillows, his hand leaving Ren’s head and tugging on his shirt; he starts to shift tellingly, moving to the side. “Come here, then.”

Ren scrambles up at the request, knocking his knee slightly on the edge and eventually managing to squeeze himself into the emptied space at Hux’s side. He feels a little stupid about how much better it makes him feel, one of Hux’s arms winding around his back and over his shoulder, urging him tuck in closer until his nose is pressed into a delicate collarbone.

“You asked if you were dead,” Ren says, taking a sniffling breath and relieved to find the faintest edge of Hux’s cologne under all the hospital funk. “Called me the Grim Reaper.”

“I’m sure it was a compliment,” Hux says, his hand cool and shaky as it curls over Ren’s face, followed by his thumb sweeping across Ren’s cheek.

Ren drops his head, curling his arms around Hux and trying to move in closer, some tiny, stupid part of his brain thinking it’ll all be made better if he somehow melds into Hux’s side.

“Watch it,” Hux snaps, his voice high and tight as he physically shies away.

“Fuck, sorry.” Ren lets go and hovers, feeling tightness at the back of his throat resurge to go with the sudden wave of uselessness. He doesn’t know what to do, just wants Hux back to normal, next to him and sarcastic at the shop. “ _Fuck_. I hope it heals quick.”

“It will,” Hux says, grabbing Ren’s wrist and forcing him to move his hand back, letting go once it’s curled up against higher on his side. “Didn’t you read articles this morning? You know how long the recovery is.”

“I should have read about anesthesia,” Ren mutters, digging his forehead harder into the slope of Hux’s shoulder, still wanting to squeeze, though that’d earn him a shove even if Hux wasn’t just out of surgery. “You kept feeling me up. Said I _couldn’t_ be married to you.”

“Contradictory statement,” Hux says, exhaling heavily and practically tutting, tugging again on Ren’s hair.

“It wasn’t like,” Ren sighs, trying not to let himself find it funny, but suddenly it just is, “ _That_. You wanted… I think you wanted to touch my bones?”

Hux is quiet for a beat, then hums low and slow. “Ah.”

“What?” Ren says, peeking upward, though he’s unable to catch more than a shift of lashes at the angle.

“I do often, darling,” Hux says, voice lowering and suspiciously contemplative. A pair of thin fingers proceed to trace down Ren’s nose in a marked fashion, then across his cheek, pressing just slightly too hard into his flesh. “I’ve simply never said it.”

Ren feels a scowl cross his mouth, though he’s not particularly surprised at the revelation. “…You think about killing me?”

“Of course not,” Hux says, dismissing the accusation with a huff, though he does _seem_ honest in the denial. “In that context, anyway. Simply how I’ll keep you in our collection after you die.”

Ren grunts shortly, suffering a swoop low in his gut. He’s thought about similar things with Hux, a consequence of their trade, though this morning proved he was far less certain in his indifference to the fact of death. “Hang me in the shop,” he offers, easily imagining his skeleton blending in amongst the rest of the creative taxidermy and aged oddities. “I want to haunt it.”

“I could only hope so,” Hux says, sounding more offended by the idea Ren might turn a cold ghastly shoulder than he had of being accused of contemplating murder. “The idea of your soul wandering alone the grounds of some cemetery is far too depressing.”

Ren rolls his eyes upward, glaring unseen at Hux’s slanting frown – he taps Hux under the ribs, eager to remind that he _will_ be with him forever, their vows said through death. “Then when _you_ pass on, we’ll have our bones ground together, poured into a carafe to be consumed by mourners.”

Hux sweeps his hand, soft and cool, down Ren’s neck. “Will they know?”

Ren thinks it would probably be _polite_ to have a warning, but then he imagines, should they attend, any one member of his family partaking in the ritual. “After,” he decides, hiding an emerging smirk behind a bitten lip, pressing it against Hux's loose sweater. “Someone lucky will find our rings in their cup.”

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that super old viral video?
> 
> (Also, this takes place in an AU where Ren owns an oddities shop, Hux is a taxidermist that sort of woos him with odd specimens, but I haven't got any sort of story for that past 'this is what it is', so my bad.)
> 
> I can also be found on the [twitters](https://twitter.com/ezlebe?lang=en) at Ezlebe


End file.
